


Zero

by universalgleam



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6321787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalgleam/pseuds/universalgleam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something about the way he’s slouched against the stucco, chin up, defiant, that draws Luke in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this story's gonna be long. slo o o o ow burn. but, rest assured, eventually there will be some seriously NC-17 shit because i can't write fic without including smut!
> 
> the beginning is rough i think... it gets better, i promise. i have an insane amount of mental meta for this story so i'm trying to smooth that into it as well as i can.
> 
> \- ZERO: in which tatooine is new mexico and luke is a farm boy and han is a drug dealer. because apparently all the world needed was yet another modern AU. -

Han isn’t like anyone Luke knows.

There’s a recklessness there, a spontaneity that Luke envies and admires.

Sleep has softened the older man’s features, and now Luke can’t help but stare. Especially the way his lashes fan against his tanned skin, his messy hair, his lips…

He had told Luke to wake him up at 10:30, and he’d drive him home; but just like the night before, Luke will “accidentally” fall asleep right where he is, and spend another night pressed against Han.

☼ ☼

It starts as unpredictably as the man himself.

Luke, ecstatic at the prospect of his first free Saturday in a month, had left the farm in the early evening, northbound for the city. He’d planned to wander the shops; then, if he could stomach it, maybe check out a club. He figured he was pretty enough to get a few free drinks – despite his age – and then, God willing, maybe he’d have enough confidence to _talk_ to someone for once.

But, of course, that piece of shit Saab breaks down before he reaches his destination, leaving him in a rather dangerous district of Mos Eisley.

It’s not that he’s… _scared,_ per sé. No. But – hell, he doesn’t even have a _knife_ on him, and if news reports are anything to go by, this is a bad place to be unarmed.

The panic sets in when Luke realizes he’ll have to call Uncle Owen to explain. He shakes his head, cursing himself internally. _Idiot. Wrecked the car, and on your first night out in… fuck. Only you could manage all this, Skywalker._

The click of a lighter startles Luke out of his thoughts. He pulls his head out of his hands and is met with a chuckle.

“Car trouble?”

Across the dusty road stands a man, probably in his late twenties, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. There’s something about the way he’s slouched against the stucco, chin up, defiant, that draws Luke in.

“I, uh… yeah. It, it– well, _stopped_.”

At that, the man pushes himself off the wall and saunters over to Luke, who, fearing the worst, puts his hands up defensively.

“Look, man, I–I’m not tryin’ to start anything–”

Another chuckle; a grin and Luke sees white teeth. “Hey, relax, kid. Can I take a look? Getting’ dark out, now, you’ll wanna get it sorted real soon. Rough crowd ‘round here.”

“And what does that make you?”

The man stares right at him. Luke notes his eyes are hazel. “…well, kid, I could ask you the same thing.” Luke laughs despite himself, looking shyly at the ground. The man lifts the hood of the car, continuing the conversation as he pokes around. “So where you from? Not far, I hope?”

“No, not far. Few miles south of here.”

“Oh… so you’re farm folk, then?”

Luke finds he’s balling his fists; despite the stranger’s kindness, he _hates_ being stereotyped.

“…well, _yes_ , my aunt and uncle own a farm. But I’m not… ‘farm folk’, I’m– I’m gonna be going to college anytime now. I’m not–”

“–alright, alright, would you cool it? Didn’t mean nothin’ by that.” Luke exhales; he really needs to stop jumping to conclusions, or–

“Hey, wanna give ‘er a try?”

Luke glances up – hazel again, this time quite nearby. _And, God, he’s tall._ “Oh – yeah, yeah.” He shuts the hood, hopping in the driver’s seat.

A rush of relief hits Luke as the car starts. But the man, now lit by the car’s headlights, is grimacing. Luke opens the door. “What is it?”

“Not exactly sure, kid… something’s rattling around in there. Doesn’t sound too good. Doubt you could make it even a mile.”

Panic swells up in Luke. “Wh–what am I gonna do?” He drops his head in his hands, sighing.

“Boy, you sure freak out quick, huh? Listen, my buddy’s got a repair shop over on 5th. I got a few things to… wrap up in there.” He hooks a thumb at the building he’d leaned against earlier – a bar. “Wait out here, I’ll only be a minute. Then we’ll head over to the shop, he’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

Luke nods, but as the man turns to cross the street, he finds himself calling out “Wait!”

His head turns. “Yeah?”

“I’m not, I don’t– um. Can… can I come with you?” It sounded less ridiculous in his head – really. The sun’s almost set, and the streets glow orange; he doesn’t want to be out here alone once nighttime hits.

The man walks back over to Luke’s car, leaning against the hood.

“Let’s get a few things straight here, alright?”

Luke stiffens. He realizes again that this guy _could_ be dangerous.

“Now, I know you’re not from in town, but I’m sure you’ve heard of the Cantina?”

“ _That’s_ the Cantina? I thought they shut that place down last month, when that guy got shot–”

“Never stays closed for long. Cops don’t care no more, don’t come round this part of Mos Eisley much at all… too dangerous for ‘em, I guess. Plenty of folks got a grudge towards ‘em.”

“…are you… in a _gang_?” Luke whispers the word, like he’s afraid if he says it loud enough it’ll be true.

The man laughs. “No, no. I’m a… free agent.”

Crossing his arms, Luke looks the man up and down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Silence. But Luke’s a good guesser.

“You’re a drug dealer, aren’t you?”

…more silence. The man smirks a bit. “If you’re coming in with me, I might as well know your name.”

“Oh, I’m… Luke.”

“Great. I’m Han. Now, are you comin’ or not? Some of these guys, well, they don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Slowly, Luke repeats the name. “Han.” It suits him. _Han._ “Yeah, I’ll come in.”

“Now, promise me you won’t make a scene? Stay quiet, and stick by me.”

“Alright.” His stomach in knots, Luke follows Han into the Cantina.

It’s not how he expected his night to go, but, well… Luke Skywalker’s not one to complain about a bit of adventure.


	2. Chapter 2

Inside, Luke feels the walls are caving in on him. It’s packed, and sweaty, and loud, chaotic jazz flows in from a far corner. Han grabs his sleeve, keeping Luke at his side; his wrist burns from a second of contact.

_Oh no, please don’t let me feel like this–_

Before his thoughts can untangle themselves, Luke’s being pulled down into a booth with Han.

“Sorry for the wait, I… ran into… an old friend outside. This is my associate–”

“We’ve no time for pointless introductions, Solo. Do you have the money or not?” A man with dark shades is seated across from them, his glare palpable even through the glasses. Han gulps – almost nervously – and glances fleetingly at Luke, who’s made it a point to study all the intricacies of the Cantina’s ceiling.

“Well, Greedo, I’m– I’ll have his money, alright? You tell Jabba I can cover it all in the next month.” He lowers his voice. “I’ve got a big shipment comin’ in on Monday, just gotta… expand my client base a bit.”

Greedo doesn’t seem impressed. “A month isn’t good enough.”

“Look, what do you want me to say? I can get it to him in weekly installments, if that’s–”

“How much?”

“A grand a week.” Luke tries not to react, but he’s shocked – that’s a fucking _lot._

“Fine. We’ll be waiting, Solo. Same time next Saturday?”

“Sure.”

“Good.” Greedo moves to stand, then stops, leaning across the table a bit. “And leave your boyfriend at home next time.”

Before the words can sink in, Han’s risen to his full height. “Why, you–” There’s the swift sound of fist meeting face, _oh God_ , Greedo is slumped on the table, _Han’s grabbing my hand –_ they’re racing out the door and bolting for Luke’s car and Han says “Left on fifth, it’s a straight shot–” then they’re moving.

Han’s on his phone now, shouting “Chewie, open up the door, we got a situation!”

And suddenly he’s exhaling, “Here,” and Luke turns into the little parking lot of Chewie’s Autos and heads towards where Han’s finger is pointing.

The door shuts behind them, fluorescent lights flicker on, and Han slumps in the passenger seat, laughing breathlessly. “Don’t think anyone followed us… but what a ride, right?”

Luke isn’t quite so amused. “What the fuck was that?!” He’s clearly fuming and it’s making Han laugh even harder. “Han, it’s not funny! We could’ve–”

“Calm down, will ya? Don’t tell me you’ve never hit anyone. You heard what he said to me! If someone insulted you like that–”

Narrowing his eyes, Luke begins to retort, “And why would that be an _insult_ ,” but is cut off as Han opens the car door abruptly, laughing loudly again.

“Chewie, oh man… wait till I tell you about the night I’ve had.” He spins on his heel, facing the car again – “Hey, Luke, c’mon out here.”

Reluctantly, Luke pulls himself from the Saab. He’s honestly a bit offended by what Han had said – because, despite having nothing to show for it, he’s quite _proud_ of being gay, thank you very much.

He was hoping he wouldn’t be required to divulge that immediately to any new friends he might make – _Han’s not your friend,_ his left-brain scolds. Further down, his stomach’s doing cartwheels. _And you certainly don’t think he’s_ –

“Luke, this is Chewie, my best friend, wingman, and emergency responder. Chewie, this is… well… Luke.”

Luke gulps. And he thought _Han_ was tall – the man extending his hand seems to be nearing seven feet. His hair hangs halfway down his back.

“Nice to meet you, Chewie.” Luke reaches his own hand out, unsurprised at the other man’s strength. “…d’you mind if I use your bathroom?”

Han speaks first, pointing towards a blue door on the far wall. “Down the hallway, second door on the left.”

As Luke hurries away, he hears Han and Chewie begin discussing his car. _Fuck._ In the midst of all this, he’s completely forgotten the issue that landed him here.

_I hope Chewie doesn’t charge much._

☼ ☼

Luke spends 10 minutes talking to his reflection in the bathroom, trying to calm himself down. Nevertheless, he can feel his panic mounting the second he re-enters the garage.

“Well, kid, she’ll be fine, but… Chewie can’t get the parts in till tomorrow.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

“You said you don’t live far right? I can give you a ride if you like.” Han claps him on the back, meant to be reassuring, Luke is sure, but it still makes him jump.

“Uh… sure.”

“Great!” Han smiles, big and cheery. “This way, c’mon.”

Luke hesitates. “Are you… drunk?”

“No, no.”

“…you’re high.”

There’s a couple seconds of silent tension, Han glancing guiltily from Luke to Chewie and back. “…a bit, yeah.” Both Han and Chewie are laughing now. “That’s not gonna be a problem, is it, junior?”

Luke blushes furiously. _That… nickname._ “Um… no. No, you’re fine… it’s not far, anyway.”

“Right, well then, enough standing around, let’s get moving.” A hand on Luke’s shoulder to guide him. “Chewie, we’ll be back… tomorrow?” He looks to Luke, questioning; the younger man nods.

In a back corner of the garage sits what is, evidently, Han’s… van.

It’s a silver VW caravan, one of the old ones, from the 70s.

“This is the Falcon.”

“The-the what?”

“The Falcon. My pride and joy.” There’s more than a hint of sarcasm in Han’s second statement, but Luke senses that’s more for Han’s sake than his.

“It’s… _nice_ ,” Luke lies, even while thinking _Great, he’s one of those guys who treats his car like a pet._

 _Or a_ wife.

But Han’s face loosens up, big grin returning, to Luke’s relief. He has no idea why, but Han kinda likes him – and Luke definitely wants to stay on his good side.

☼ ☼

“So where exactly are we headed?” Han asks as he twists his keys in the ignition.

“Not far, it’s pretty close to Anchorhead… if you know where that is.”

“Oh, yeah, out by Tosche Station.”

Luke nods. “Uh-huh, a bit west of there. I’ll let you know when to turn.” Han heads south towards the mountain pass; they ride in silence for a short time.

“So, ah… what’re you gonna tell your parents? I mean, about your car?” Han’s eyes stay on the road, almost forcefully pointed forward.

“I don’t live with– well, my parents, they…”

He trails off ad after a moment Han starts, “I’m sorry, kid, I’m not tryin’ to–”

“–no, it’s… it’s fine.” Luke sighs. “My mom died when I was born. And my dad, he… sort of disappeared around then. I’m not really that sure of the details… he uh, wasn’t… good to my mom. Well, not towards the end.” _God damn it, you didn’t have to tell him_ everything.

“Oh. I’m… sorry.”

Luke scoffs. “Don’t be. I never even knew the guy.”

Han smiles ruefully. “Yeah, never knew my old man either. Eventually, figured I was causing my ma more grief than she could handle… dropped out when I was 17, ‘n just…” (he gestures with his hand like a plane leaving a runway–) “…took off.” He speaks these words cautiously, but measured, as if he’s given this speech before.

The younger man digests that for a minute before responding (would _I’m sorry_ be hypocritical?) before deciding on, “You from around here, then? Originally?”

“No, no… Austin. Spent some time in El Paso, then Albuquerque… traveled around a bit, through the Rockies. But, ah…” he chuckles, “my debts caught up with me. So here I am.” His smile’s making Luke blush again. “And what about you, kid?”

He’s shaken from his mind’s mental road-map, following Han’s travels – “Oh, uh. My dad was from around here– Mos Espa. Mom was from Louisiana. My aunt and uncle, they lived out here a while… took me in and it’s, well… it’s where I been ever since.”

Han nods briskly, looking distracted. “So… your aunt and uncle, then. What’re you gonna tell ‘em?”

Groaning, Luke drops his head into his hands. “I have no idea.” _Uncle Owen’s gonna kill me._ Looking up, he gestures ahead. “It’s the next right.”

“Want me to come help explain?”

“No! No– um, thanks, but I think I oughta handle this one myself.”

As they pull onto the Lars property, Han shrugs. “To each his own.”

Gathering his breath, Luke begins to open his door, not daring to glance back at Han. “Well, um, thanks. You really… saved me tonight, I guess.” _Good Lord, you sound stupid._ He extracts himself from the van before he can fuck it up any worse.

“Luke, wait!”

Fate can be so cruel.

His eyes shift up, meet hazel– Luke’s knees are weak, because he’s been denying it all night but _shit, Han is gorgeous._

And he’s holding out a slip of paper.

“Lemme know when you wanna go pick up your ride. I’ll drive you up there, y’know… save your folks the trouble.” The last part is spoken hastily, a last-minute addition.

“It’s not too far out of the way, is it? Where’s your–”

“No, it’s not. Good luck now.”

“Thanks, Han… see ya tomorrow, then.” Luke shuts the door behind him, trying (and failing) to be nonchalant.

A nod, a white-toothed smile, the screech of tires, and he’s gone.

Nails digging into his palms, Luke walks home alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> praying i can work some REAL gayness in by chapter 4
> 
> (also, sorry about greedo, i hate trying to write minor characters... there's a few in the next chapter but should be none after that lol)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no more minor characters after this!
> 
> rating goes UP in chapter 4  
> (along with the general quality of it all)

Luke almost has a heart attack when his phone rings.

It’s _him,_ of course.

“Han, thank God, I was–”

“–seriously, kid? 12 calls?”

It’s a fucking miracle that Han can’t see him – he’s blushing harder than he thought possible. “I just–”

That beautiful laugh again… it seems a night of sleep wasn’t enough to shake Luke’s infatuation. “You’re fine, kid… I was asleep, s’all.”

Pulling his phone from his ear to check the time, Luke sighs. “It’s 2:45 PM.”

“Hey, not all of us run on farm time!”

Luke doesn’t know what to say. He just sighs again.

“So… you mind if I come pick you up now?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. But… my aunt and uncle wanted to meet you, I know it’s weird– well, they’re strict. They just want to know who I’m, uh, hanging out with.” _Stop making such a big deal out of it. He’s not your fucking boyfriend._

“Don’t sweat it, I’d love to meet your folks… I can be over there in twenty, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, that’s fine… I’ll see you then.”

“Bye now.”

☼ ☼

Forty minutes later, Luke hears the gravel crunch outside, and his stomach turns.

_I really hope he’s sober._

Entering the living room, Luke wipes his palms against his thighs. “He’s here.”

Uncle Owen stands, nodding. “Go on, then.”

Uncertain of how this may go – and still a bit ashamed from the stern talking-to he’d received the night before – Luke leads, his uncle following him outside, where Aunt Beru is already greeting Han.

Uncle Owen eyes him up, wary. “What’s your name, son?”

Han offers his hand immediately. “Han Solo. Pleased to meet you, sir… though I’m sorry for the circumstances.”

To Luke’s immense relief, his uncle smiles. “Ah, it’s just a car, not to worry.” _Where was this attitude last night?!_

 _…does Han charm_ everyone _like this?_

He glances at Luke, smug grin on his face. _Dick._

But Uncle Owen’s gone serious again. “Now, how much is it? Luke’s goin’ to be responsible for it, but if you need more up front–”

“Free of charge.”

Luke gapes at Han. “Really?!”

“Yeah, yeah… figured we’d all been there. Don’t wanna cut into your college money, do ya?”

As his uncle opens his mouth to reply, Luke lightly shoves Han, moving to get into the van – he _really_ doesn’t want to talk about college right now. “I’ll be home later, alright?” _C’mon, Han, let’s go…_ he’s hugging Aunt Beru now. _Oh, Christ._

“By dinnertime?”

“Yeah.”

Finally, Han gets in the vehicle as well. “Don’t worry, folks, I’ll make sure he’s home by six.” He waves. They drive. Luke, as he’s found himself doing all too much these days, _sighs._

“Nice folks.”

“To you, maybe… you didn’t have him yelling at you for half an hour last night.”

Han smiles. “S’pose not… why were you in such a hurry to get out of there?”

“Oh. Well… see, I know I said I was going to college soon, but that’s sort of a… a dream. They don’t really want me to go.”

“Why not? Don’t they want you to be _happy_?” Han looks irritated by this; it makes Luke’s palms sweat even more.

“Well, yeah, but… they need me. On the farm, ‘n stuff.”

Han shakes his head. “You can’t let them control you, Luke… you’re more than free labor.”

_What a fucking gentleman._

Han turns the radio on, then; it’s 80’s music, the same kind of stuff Biggs used to play for Luke sometimes.

(Best not to think about him.)

Luke looks around at the interior of the van, noticing for the first time how spacious the back is.

 _Too_ spacious – with booth seating and – oh, hell, is that a _mattress_?

“Han, do you… _live_ in this van?”

Hazel eyes flick to the right. “An’ so what if I _do_?” He sounds restrained.

“No, no, I– I’m not judgin’ you, really. I think it’s kinda… cool, actually.”

The older man scoffs. “Sure ya do.”

“I–”

“No, I get it. Grown man livin’ in his fucking car, sellin’ drugs to get by… you must think I’m pathetic, huh, college boy?”

Luke glares over at him. “I was just asking. You don’t gotta be so rude.”

To the younger’s surprise, Han… _apologizes_. “I’m sorry, kid… just stressed.”

“I’m sorry… I hope it’s not my faul–”

“’Course not, don’t say that. You’re… well… you’re a breath of fresh air, to be honest.”

“Y’know, Han… so are you.”

☼ ☼

It’s 4:15 on a Sunday; 24 hours ago, if you’d told Luke Skywalker he’d be spending it drinking a beer in a garage with… _these_ guys, he wouldn’t’ve bought it.

Now, though, well… it feels alright.

Chewie is funny, _really_ funny – he mumbles a lot but eventually Luke can infer what he’s saying.

He goes after Han mercilessly, but there’s a real camaraderie there. Luke finds himself envious; he can only dream of a lifelong friend like that.

Luke tries to hold back a grimace as he sips at his beer. Truth is, he doesn’t much care for it – when it comes to liquor, he’d rather take a couple shots and get it over with then spend hours chugging down bitter piss-water.

(But he couldn’t exactly tell _Han_ that, could he?)

He’s shaken out of his thoughts by loud, abrasive guitar.

Han’s grinning. “What’s this, man, new mixtape for the Falcon?” Chewie nods. “Nice one.”

 _My reflection, dirty mirror_  
_There’s no connection to myself_  
 _I’m your lover, I’m your zero_  
 _I’m the face in your dreams of glass_

Somewhere in the past seconds, Han’s caught Luke’s eye. They stare at each other for a bit. But of course, the younger one has to go and ruin it, crinkling his nose at the song – the pessimism, the screaming.

“Uh-oh, Chewie, looks like the kid’s not a Pumpkins fan.” The two men laugh; Luke pouts.

“It’s fine!”

“And what do _you_ listen to?”

There’s a terrifying few seconds where Luke debates telling him or not – at the expense of a bit of ridicule, he’s sure– but in the end he acquiesces. “Um… well, kind of… indie stuff? Like– well, Beach House, Chvrches, uh– Lana del Rey–”

He’s interrupted by Han’s laugh.

 _Fuck this._ Luke’s had enough– he gets up, abandoning the beer and the music and the chance of a fucking _friendship_ and gets in his now-repaired car, slamming the door behind him. Han’s at the window before he can put the keys in the ignition–

“Luke, I’m sorry. We can–”

“Goodbye, Han.”

☼ ☼

He’s halfway home before he realizes Han’s following him in his van.

_Christ, now you got yourself a stalker – good one, Luke._

Sighing, he decides it’s for the best to just _handle_ this – tell Han it was very nice of him to help but _really_ he’s got a lot going on and doesn’t have time for this shit, thank you.

Pulling over in the orange sand, Luke sits in his car and waits.

Despite having followed Luke to the side of the road, Han’s made no move to approach the car. Sighing, Luke gets out – and is surprised to find the older man with his head pressed against the steering wheel, face hidden.

“Han.”

He looks up at him; his eyes are a bit red. _And beautiful despite it all._

“And here I thought we had a good thing goin’.”

“What do you–” Luke huffs, pacing away from the van a bit – to distract himself, to lose eye contact lest it weaken him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

A click sounds as Han, presumably, gets out of the Falcon. “You’re not like other people.”

Luke spins around, suddenly almost… _angry._ “What do you want from me? We can’t, we’re not – what _are_ we? Are we _friends_? We _can’t_ be – how _old_ are you, anyway?!”

Han looks so… _empty._ “I’m twenty-nine.”

“Jesus Christ.” Luke cradles his forehead in a palm. “Han, I’m _nineteen_ , you shouldn’t be hanging around with me.”

“Kid, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think I had a chance.”

Luke looks up at him again – _Jesus, he really is tall –_ and tries to ignore the expression on his face. “A ‘ _chance_ ’?! What does that even _mean,_ Han? I’m–”

And suddenly all his defenses are gone, because his face is held between large hands and another pair of lips meet his.

It’s dry, short, the quintessential first kiss and dust swirls around them in the afternoon heat – he _should_ be uncomfortable, in the desert with a strange, older man.

But he’s not.

Han smiles down at him. “See what I mean?”


End file.
